Living Dreams, Waking Nightmares
by PithedOff
Summary: A crossover between two unlikely games.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter One: Doze

Six months had passed after Frisk, a short human boy at the age of ten, had freed the mythical Monsters that had been sealed behind the legendary Mount Ebott. After coming onto the surface, Papyrus, the gangly, enthusiastic skeleton with a taste for spaghetti, had taken a role as the ambassador of the monsters after Frisk had politely refused. Despite everyone's doubts, Papyrus' nonthreatening demeanor and boundless kindness had quickly convinced the humans that there would be no reason to start another war.

Frisk, meanwhile, along with the monsters, was adjusting to a new life on the surface. Many of the monsters had worked together to create a small village near the outskirts of the human city.

Seeing as different monsters had different needs and tastes, the village was less an actual village and more a hodgepodge of homes, with different styles and types of houses arranged in a large array. Undyne had worked together with Alphys, the royal scientist (and her girlfriend) to design and build a house. It essentially resembled Undyne's original home underground (which had burnt to the ground following a cooking fire), with small touches from Alphys' laboratory. Asgore, the former monarch of the Underground, had built a small but elegant home in a small clearing that resembled a log cabin more than anything, with golden flowers creating a broad path out on the front lawn. Papyrus, and his brother Sans, had inexplicably managed to transport their original house from Snowdin to the surface, complete with unmelted snow still resting on the roof.

Toriel, the former queen of the Underground and Frisk's adoptive mother, had constructed a humble little house that was vaguely reminiscent of her original home in the Ruins of the Underground catacombs.

Frisk had finished all his chores for the day and done his homework, so he decided to go out for a walk back through the Underground. After telling Toriel where he was going, packing one of his cell-phone- borne dimensional boxes (created by Alphys) with everything he might need- flashlight, bag of potato chips (courtesy of Sans), first- aid kit- he set out for the Underground.

 _ **Could we not have done anything else today?**_ Said Chara as they entered Waterfall. Chara was the first adoptive daughter of Toriel about a century ago, as well as the first human to fall into the Underground. She had been the (adoptive) sister, as well as best friend, of Asriel, the prince of the Underground. After a plan to free the monsters from the Underground, which involved her killing herself so Asriel could take her soul and use its power to cross the Barrier to the surface world, where six more human souls could be acquired, went horribly wrong, she ended up sleeping for decades where Toriel had buried her body, until Frisk fell into the Underground, at which point her essence latched onto Frisk's soul, binding her to him as a phantom that only he could see. Asriel, however, went through an unfortunate sequence of events and was revived as a soulless flower.

 _We could have. But I enjoy exploring this old place._ Rebuffed Frisk as he turned a corner.

 _ **We've been here so many times before, and haven't found anything ne- what the- that wasn't here before.**_ Chara stopped her petulant retort mid- sentence to acknowledge the _very new_ thing that Frisk had wandered into.

A period of stunned silence followed before Chara spoke again. _**Well then. I suppose I stand corrected.**_

What Frisk had stumbled onto was a long, empty hallway that seemed to have spontaneously constructed itself. Instead of the room lying beyond the hallway, a swirling, seething darkness filled the threshold of the far side of the hall. The strangest part, however, was the ash- grey,

spotless door sitting on the wall about halfway down the hallway. Frisk stepped closer, and upon inspecting it, found that it was melded so completely into the cave wall- almost fused to it, in fact- that it was almost part of the wall itself.

Frisk tentatively grasped the doorknob, and was surprised when it felt exactly as a normal knob should- he didn't know what he was expecting, but he certainly wasn't expecting ordinary steel.

 _ **Wait a minute.**_ Interjected Chara. _**You can't seriously be thinking of entering a weird grey door mashed into the wall of a hallway that appeared out of thin air, are you?**_

Frisk turned the knob.

 _ **Have you not given one thought as to what could be behind that door? It could be a terrifying beast, or a room that you can never escape, or just a portal to nowhere, for God's sake!**_

 _Yes, but it could also be holding someone we need to rescue, or some kind of treasure, or even a portal to another dimension!_ Replied Frisk.

The door was pushed open.

Inside was one of the strangest locations the two ever thought they would see in their (after)lives. The door held an endless, barren grey void, and as Frisk stepped inside, he noticed that a short ways away from him, the void seemed to curl sharply in on itself, creating walls that shifted as Frisk looked at them.

In the center of the 'room' laid a gaping pit, not unlike the one Frisk had fallen into to reach the Underground from Mount Ebott, with the difference being the fact that this hole was much more sinister- looking, not only being unnaturally dark- even by magical standards- but curling up from the depths was a miasmic smoke that seemed to actively swallow- no, _devour_ \- the light around it, making the smoke even darker than the hole itself.

 _*There's a dark hole here that's who knows how deep._

 _Look inside?_

 _Yes No_

 _ **Frisk, what are you doing?!**_ Chara shrieked as Frisk moved closer to the hole to peer directly down into its depths. _**This is exactly how you fell the first time!**_

Frisk, however, paid her no mind, and stuck his head out over the pit, gazing into it, not even noticing he was leaning forward drastically, beginning to lose his balance.

 _ **FRISK, GET BACK, YOU IDIOT, YOU'RE GOING TO FALL-**_

But it was too late, as Frisk had already toppled and fallen, head over heels, into the abyss.

 **Hey! This is my first attempt at writing a fanfiction,** **so the chapters are going to be pretty short at first. Also, as you might expect, I'm still trying to get the hang of using this site, so please tell me if you can give me pointers.**

 **If you're wondering why I decided to have the main character fall into a pit in the first chapter, don't worry. All will be revealed.**

 **Also, yes, I am well aware that the player characters in UNDERTALE have no canonical gender, but after reading quite a few fanfics starring this dynamic, I decided to put it into my own story.**

 **Stay tuned.**


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two: REM

The world had dissolved into madness.

All Frisk could see was colors as he hurtled down through the tunnel, swirling and oscillating like a fever dream.

Chara was screaming in agony and terror in Frisk's mind, but the air rushing past him stole the breath from his lungs, silencing and choking him. Inside, though, he was screaming right along with her, terrified beyond description.

A burning feeling erupted in Frisk's chest, worse than any other pain he had ever experienced. The pain began to quickly worsen as Frisk clenched his teeth and scrunched his eyes shut, the feeling turning into a splitting feeling in his soul, as if it was being ripped apart.

The sensation finally exploded into one white-hot flash of indescribable agony, causing Frisk's eyes to shoot open wide.

With that, the pain abruptly stopped, and Chara's screams cut off.

The colors began swirling faster, blending together, until all Frisk could see was blinding white.

 **Well, assuming you read the story info, I'm sure you know where this is going.**

 **Stay tuned.**


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three: Sleep

The first thing Frisk felt when he awoke was stone.

It was a hard, unforgiving material- cold, and completely flat but also somehow rough, like fine sandpaper.

The second thing Frisk felt was a headache and the urge to vomit.

Crawling up into a kneeling position, he hunched over involuntarily and ejected the contents of his lunch, retching until all he had was the dry heaves.

Wiping his mouth, he reached for his phone and opened a dimensional box, pulling out the bag of potato chips (which were, amusingly enough, labelled 'Popato Chisps') that Sans had put inside and beginning to slowly eat the contents.

As he finished the bag, the splitting headache he had woken up to gradually abated, and his stomach ceased its churning.

Climbing shakily to his feet, he took a moment to look around and survey just where in the seven Hells he was.

He was standing in the middle of a large, empty room. The room had an atmospheric, mysterious aura to it, almost like a temple. As he looked around, however, he saw a variety of things wrong with the room. The ancient, weathered floor was black as night, as if someone had found out how to liquefy darkness and then splattered it all over the floor of this room. Decorating the surface of the floor were several images of a mysterious, monkey- like figure, arranged in a radial formation.

What was perhaps the strangest thing, however, were the thirteen strange doors placed around the perimeter of the room.

Stepping closer to a glossy, red door with several concentric rectangles carved into it, he saw that the doors appeared to be standing on their own, with no sort of support to hold them up. Taking this fact in stride, he opened the door and stepped through it, figuring he had nothing to lose.

Instead of simply emerging on the other side of the seemingly normal door, though, he stepped out into another strange place. Looking around, he saw… nothing. The entire landscape was completely barren. The only visible things were the puddles of water dotting the plain. Despite the land's empty, unsettling appearance, Frisk suspected this land had something to hide. Perhaps a key to escaping this bizarre realm?

Gathering his determination, he began walking.

 **So, yeah. Welcome to the Dream World.**

 **If you're wondering why I chose these two games to meet of all games, it's because 1) I read an extraordinary crossover fic between Undertale and The Binding Of Isaac (it's called Undertale: Rebirth, go check it out), which inspired me to write my own story, and 2) these two games are similar in structure, and reminiscent of a game called EarthBound from the 90's.**

 **Also, it likely won't be mentioned in the story, but due to the Dream World's main function in the Yume Nikki Manga (to pacify and reform troubled minds), it will be called the Reformatory Realm in this fic.**

 **That's all for now.**

 **Stay tuned.**


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four: The Puddle World

Frisk had no idea how long he had been walking.

It seemed that every direction in this distorted world led back to the door- he'd tried walking north from the door, west, east, south, but it was no use- he always circled back to the door.

Frisk wondered if this was some sort of trap world- was he able to go back the way he came?

Would that door even open again? Was he forever doomed to wander this lifeless, abyssal landscape?

Part of him wanted to collapse and cry, to call out for help, but he fought down these thoughts and pressed forward- he had faced _much_ worse than this, after all.

He came up with a plan- he would try going south one more time to see if he could spot anything that could move him forward, and if he found nothing, he would go back and see if the door still worked. It wasn't much of a plan, but it was something, at least.

As he slowly crept south, scanning the horizon for anything unusual, he saw a small light to the east.

It was like a star- small and distant, but almost overwhelmingly bright against the stifling darkness of the plain. Squinting as he cautiously walked closer, he identified it as a perfectly ordinary street lamp.

Resting a palm against the metal post and finding it to be solid, he sat down on the ground with his back against the post, basking in the stark light of the lamp. He felt as if the small halo of light cast by the lamp was the only safe place in this hellish world, and if it went out, he would be dragged into the darkness.

After sitting in the light to relax and collect his thoughts, he finally stood up again to look around and see if this conveniently- placed lamp marked anything important. As he suspected, he saw only puddles, but as he looked more closely, he found that a few seemed to be placed deliberately, a trail of small puddles leading off into the darkness. Seeing as this trail was the only defined feature he had seen aside from the lamp and the door (and that he had lost track of the way he came), he concluded that the only thing he could do was follow it.

Moving away from the lamp, Frisk began to follow the trail. Keeping his eyes peeled for puddles as he walked through the barren land, he found himself moving further and further into the darkness, until the lamp was once again only a point of light in the distance.

His journey would be brought to a halt, however, when he tripped over something thin and hard, causing him to tumble forward. Taking a moment to pick himself up off of the ground and dust himself off, he looked behind him to find… an umbrella?

Picking the umbrella up off the ground, Frisk inspected it for anything unusual. To his surprise, it seemed to be perfectly ordinary, and in good condition, if a bit dirty.

After a brief moment's contemplation, Frisk decided to take the umbrella with him. After all, If it belonged to someone, he could find them and return it... and if it didn't, well, then, it was just a free umbrella. His mind made up, Frisk turned to go, opening the umbrella experimentally to make sure the mechanisms worked. No sooner had he done this, however, than a loud clap of disembodied thunder sounded from the clouded sky, and rain began to fall, pouring down in thick sheets from the heavens.

Realizing his sudden predicament, Frisk sighed in agitation. Now, his objective was simple: find shelter from the storm. Picking a direction- he could see the glow of a lamp in the distance- he began walking once more.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five: Lost

After what seemed like hours of trudging through the torrential rain across the maddeningly empty plain, his new umbrella being his only flimsy protection against the downpour, Frisk finally found something new. The lamp had turned out to be only another ordinary streetlight, but following its light had set him on the path to something else.

East (or what he assumed was east, anyway) from the lamp sat a bizarre construct. Stepping closer, he discovered it to be a tunnel, similar to tunnels he had seen leading down into subway stations. The tunnel was pale pink in color, and seemed to be made of a rough, granular stone. However, despite the fact that it sank below the ground, a corridor leading down into the darkness, the structure seemed to have no telltale seams or marks where bricks had been laid or where the construct had been set into the ground- instead, it seemed to have grown directly out of the ground, similarly to the mysterious door that had led him to this strange realm.

Frisk weighed his options. On one hand, the mysterious passageway might lead to someone or something that held a clue, or even the key, to his escape. On the other, following this new path would also be leading him further down into the darkness, and might lead to misfortune, or even death. He wasn't sure if RESETting worked in this world, and he didn't really want to risk permanent death to find out. Both of these factors, however, were negated by the fact that he was stuck in the middle of a rainstorm and in need of shelter, and he had lost his way again.

Faced with no other option, he took hold of the steel railing lining the inside of the tunnel wall, and took the plunge.

As he stepped from the final stair onto the cold floor, Frisk took a moment to inspect his surroundings. As expected, the inside of the tunnel was relatively normal. The corridor was dimly lit, with decrepit fluorescent lights inlaid in the ceiling overhead providing the only light. To his side, a cold steel railing lined the wall, stretching off into the unknown. For all intents and purposes, it looked like a completely normal passageway- the only strange thing about it was the bizarre, unnatural seamlessness of the stone forming the walls, floor and ceiling. Having finished his scrutiny, he finally started off into the depths.

…

After a short trip through the dark tunnel, Frisk stepped up out of the darkness into a new location.

The rain still fell overhead, much to his dismay. He had, however, arrived in a forest. Overhead, the moon shone as brightly as it had before, despite being nearly completely obstructed by clouds. Crickets chirped quietly, barely audible over the pitter-patter of the rain. The tunnel led into a small clearing, with hard-packed dirt forming a wide path leading off to the left. To the right of the path stood another streetlamp, its base nestled within the flattened grass. Next to the streetlamp, however, was a vending machine.

Stepping closer, Frisk inspected the machine. Following the trend of the other objects he had seen during his adventure thus far, it was almost normal, but… _not..._ at the same time. The light pink machine stood on its own, appearing to have no plug or power source. A bright, sterile glow emanated from within the confines of the metal box, a window providing a glimpse of the treats inside. Looking closer, Frisk noticed that many of the names of the contents of the machine were written in Japanese...

A deafening clap of thunder sounded, reminding Frisk that it was still raining, and it probably wasn't safe for him to remain out in the open during what was quite possibly an electrical storm.

Retreating back to the tunnel, Frisk sat down, leaning against the concrete wall. He decided he would rest in the tunnel until his clothes dried and the rain stopped. He closed his umbrella and laid it on the ground next to him.

Almost immediately after he set the tool down, something began to happen. The rain, which had been pouring down with wild abandon and showing no signs of stopping, was now beginning to lose steam, the plentiful, fat drops of water growing steadily smaller and farther between as the seconds passed.

The last of the raindrops fell to earth, the clouds parted, and the night was still.

Part of Frisk wanted to celebrate the fact that the rain had stopped, while another wanted to curse the rain for stopping only when he had finally decided to sit down and relax. Nevertheless, he took the umbrella again, got back up and pushed forward.

Turning left at the far end of the clearing, he saw that the path led to a road. The asphalt was old, but well maintained, the lines being as clear as when they were first painted. Stepping closer to the side of the road so that his shoes were just touching the raised asphalt, he stuck his head out onto the road, looking to the side.

To the right, the road extended a ways off into the distance, before ending in a solid stone wall. Bizarrely, two traffic cones sat in front of the wall, one in each lane. He didn't really understand why one would place traffic cones in front of a solid wall, but he supposed it wasn't too strange.

He turned his head to the left.

There, on the side of the road, sat what appeared to be a jellyfish. The translucent, gelatinous creature was about as tall as he was, and the same light pink as the tunnel. It floated slightly above the ground, its fat, rubbery red tentacles swaying gently. Stepping quietly out onto the side of the road, Frisk cautiously stepped closer for a better look.

The jellyfish did not seem to acknowledge his presence, and continued undulating where it stood. Frisk took this as a sign that he should just ignore it and move forward. And move forward he did, following the road into the darkness ahead.

* * *

The forest seemed to get unnaturally dark a short while after he passed the jellyfish. Here in the deeper parts of the forest, the moon, which had shone brightly enough to completely illuminate his surroundings, was completely blocked out by trees, limiting his vision greatly. His vision had been cut down to only the road, whose painted lines glowed softly, keeping him on the right path. Pulling out his cell phone, he summoned his flashlight from a dimensional box. The instrument clicked on, a thin beam of bright light cutting through the darkness. He began walking again, using the flashlight to illuminate his path.

The forest did not get any lighter as he walked. The forest remained as dark as it had been, his flashlight being the only source of light against the darkness. As he walked through the gloom, he spotted several strange creatures watching the road from small gaps in the trees. The bizarre beings floated at varying heights above the ground. Unlike the jellyfish, though, these things remained stock-still, without so much as a twitch. The creatures reminded him of three-armed starfish, with two short, bulbous tentacles with large eyes set inside them sticking out at odd angles on either side of their bodies, and a third, longer tentacle pointed down rigidly at the forest floor. Their eyes were oddly-colored; black sclera with glowing red irises that shone like spotlights against the darkness. In the center of their bizarre, lumpy bodies sat a round, lamprey-like mouth, lined with razor-sharp teeth. Frisk stopped for a moment, briefly staring into the eyes of the strange beings. The creatures paid him no mind, their vacant stares never leaving the road. Mildly unsettled, Frisk continued walking, choosing to ignore them.

Then he passed them again.

And again.

And again.

Frisk was now at least decently sure he was going in circles.

The road never seemed to go anywhere, and every so often he would pass what seemed to be the same group of empty-eyed beasts, still staring at the same point in space. Growing frustrated, Frisk turned around…

...and locked eyes with another starfish-creature.

Frisk jolted in surprise at the being who had suddenly appeared behind him. This new creature was very different from those he had seen so far. Its body was dark green, compared to the sickly mauve of its brethren, and hovered just off the side of the road, rather than being nestled in the trees. Its indigo-and-red eyes glittered with intelligence, watching him intently.

The two stared at each other for a moment, neither breaking eye contact. Slowly, Frisk relaxed, straightening his posture. Although the thing didn't move, Frisk got the feeling it was beckoning him in the direction it was relative to him. Deciding to test his luck, Frisk took a tentative step forward, worried the creature might attack him, or snap at him with that nasty-looking mouth. It remained still, never once taking its steely gaze off of him. Realizing it wasn't going to attack, he walked slowly by.

He was now at the very edge of the cherry-red glow the creature's eyes gave. Frisk gave one last look at the unique beast, before continuing off into the darkness.

* * *

Frisk emerged in another part of the forest.

The first things he noticed were the trees. What had once been moderately-spaced, coniferous trees were now darker-leaved, tightly-knit deciduous trees, their leaves broad and supple. The night sky was once again visible, unblocked by the forest canopy, the moon once again bathing the forest in soft, silvery light. The light was more subdued, leaving the forest significantly darker, but it was still lighter than the inky blackness he had come from.

The road still laid in front of him, stretching off into the distance. Looking to the far end of the moonlit street, he saw a dark, indistinct shape lying in the middle. Walking closer revealed it to be…

...Oh.

…. _Oh._

There, splayed in the middle of the road, laid a corpse.

Overcoming his disgust, Frisk stepped a little closer to get a better look.

The body was undeniably male. Although decomposition had not yet begun, it was clear that he had been dead for quite a while. The color had long since drained from the corpse's face, leaving its skin tinted a sickly, unnatural shade of pale green. Dark, rust-colored stains lay splattered around the corpse, providing evidence of what was once a puddle of blood, long since dried. And, of course, it smelled terrible.

Frisk supposed the body had been run over. However, the lack of tire tracks or anything of the sort suggested otherwise. In fact, there didn't appear to be any wounds at all on the body. Perhaps the man had simply had a stroke or attack of some sort? Perhaps, but no one could emit that much blood from any orifice. The man had clearly bled out. Combined with the bizarre hue of the corpse's skin, the man's death, as well as the body itself, seemed completely unnatural.

As he stood there pondering the man's death, something brought his train of thought screeching to a halt.

He thought he had seen a twitch.

He stopped and stared, watching the body carefully.

An arm lurched forward.

As he watched, the man he had previously thought to be long-dead… _moved._ Jerkily and with great effort, the man hoisted his torso upward, propping himself upward with his elbows. Empty, glassy eyes returned Frisk's horrified gaze. And then… slowly, awkwardly, the man began hauling himself forward.

Every nerve and instinct in Frisk's body were screaming at him to get away, to run, to do _anything_. But instead, he stood frozen, transfixed by some unseen force, watching the zombie get closer.

The zombie had now shambled its way over to him, staring dully up at him. Frisk stared back fearfully. After a moment, the animated corpse turned its gaze to his ankle… then grabbed it.

The thing's grip was one of iron, its skin cold and clammy. Frisk jerked his leg upwards in an attempt to get away, but the monster held on.

Suddenly, Frisk's head spun. Moving his free leg back instinctively to steady himself, he clutched his head with one hand, feeling for something to steady himself with with the other.

Something cold sprouted from his midsection, down near his hips, looking a bit like a flat, rectangular skirt, curving upwards at the edges. It was… metal. Steel, in fact.

The edges began to creep upward like some great plant, supplied with new steel from seemingly nowhere. Frisk dared not touch the rising enclosure, for fear that his hands would be trapped inside.

The metal reached his arms. Through the haze, Frisk wriggled, shoving them down inside the rising enclosure. Almost immediately, they went completely numb, rendering them immobile. He may as well have had no arms at all.

As the walls rose towards his head and he grew steadily dizzier, Frisk realized something. There was iron in your blood, wasn't there? So what if whatever magic that was doing this… was somehow taking the iron in his blood and transforming it into steel?

He had no time to think about that as the walls closed over his head and he was left in darkness…

The spinning in his head intensified further, growing worse and worse until he thought he was going to pass out…

Then, all of a sudden, his mind cleared and his sight returned.

The first thing he noticed was that everything was green.

Whatever had happened had locked his head in place, leaving him staring out from behind a rippled lens. He didn't seem to be able to blink, either, but something told him he didn't need to.

Clearly, a drastic change had taken place. He retreated into his own mind in a way that he couldn't describe, taking inventory of the changes that had been made.

First, there was the obvious: his vision had been stained green. A little strange, but nothing terribly detrimental. His entire upper body seemed to have gone completely numb and deathly cold, leaving him unable to move so much as a muscle. That was definitely worrying. And the chill seemed to be all around his body, but within it all the same…

He was suddenly struck by a hunch. His custom-made prison had seemingly come from within him. What if he hadn't been locked inside, but…

Frisk tried to move his arms, but ended up moving his hips in an incredibly awkward way. He tried to touch his head to the side of his personal prison, but instead jerked the side of his portable containment to the side.

He hadn't been trapped inside a box.

He had been transformed.

Fear began rising in his chest as the gravity of the situation suddenly hit him like a wave.

A flurry of questions flashed through his mind as he began to panic. What was going to happen to him? Was he going to remain an armless box for the rest of his life? Was he even going to be able to make it out of here? What was he going to do?

 _Stop,_ he commanded his thoughts, in some vain hope that it would calm his racing mind…

...and flinched as his green-stained field of vision suddenly turned red, snapping him from his reverie.

Had he a face, it would have contorted into a mask of confusion.

What had just happened?

He tried to move his arms again, just in case his fit of panic had somehow freed him from his confinement. Just as before, he ended up doing a bizarre, jerking rendition of the hula.

He performed another mental check. Just as he expected, nothing about his new body had changed, apart from the tint of his vision. He sighed inwardly, then shifted his focus outward, rejoining the world around him.

The first thing he noticed was the zombie, which had apparently shambled back to its point of origin and promptly collapsed again, as it was now lying in a different position than before. Other than that, however, nothing else in his environment seemed to have changed. There was a nagging feeling that something was different, though… something he was overlooking. He took another look around, inspecting every last detail.

He suddenly realized what had changed.

The difference wasn't something that had appeared- it was what was missing.

The gentle sounds of the forest- the soft _whooshing_ of the wind through the trees, the quiet rustling of the leaves, the chatter of the crickets- had all suddenly gone silent. And it didn't stop there. The clouds had ceased their lackadaisical journey across the sky. The foliage had stopped moving, leaves and blades of grass frozen at unnatural angles. Even the wind, which had been blowing in a cool, pleasant breeze, had paused, leaving the air inert and still.

Time itself, it seemed, had stopped.

Now he was only more confused. Had he done that? Or had it just been coincidental with his vision suddenly changing color?

He supposed there was only one way to find out.

He mentally retraced his steps, recounting every last action up to the change. He had realized he no longer had arms, begun to panic, and commanded his thoughts to stop in an attempt to calm himself down. Perhaps the command to stop was what had caused the change? So, following that logic, perhaps commanding time to resume would fix it?

It was an insane thought, and a complete shot in the dark, but he supposed it was worth a shot- after all, what did he have to lose?

He decided to start simple. _Resume,_ he thought...

...and flinched once more as the tint of his vision flipped back to green, the world suddenly jolting out of stasis around him.

That couldn't have been a coincidence.

He tried stopping time again. _Stop._

Sure enough, everything stopped again, the world freezing in its tracks once more.

And unfroze it again. _Resume._

Time started moving again, the sounds and gentle movements of the forest returning.

Froze.

Unfroze.

Froze.

Unfroze.

 _Stop._

 _Go._

 _Stop._

 _Go._

 _Stop._

 _Go._

It took a moment for the full magnitude of what had just happened to hit him, but when it did, it sent his mind reeling. Somehow, out of nowhere, he had gained the ability to _stop time._ It was a rather… heady realization, to say the least. The fact that he had been spontaneously gifted with this staggering level of power was astounding.

There was, however, one problem: he was still missing his arms. And that certainly was a problem, wasn't it?

He dipped his boxy body slightly, the only way he was capable of showing his irritation in this state.

He had been given unfathomable power, but been crippled as a result. Given the choice between the two, he would definitely take the ability to function over the ability to stop time. The ability had been fun for about ten seconds, and would likely be very useful in multiple cases, but now he just wanted to be rid of it.

And suddenly, he was. The cold metal cage abruptly shattered like a pane of glass, throwing shards of metal in all directions.

The fragments slowed to a stop in midair, dissolving into motes of light. As he watched, they streamed inward in glowing ribbons of energy, swirling and spiraling into the center of his chest.

The last wisps of energy entered his being, disappearing as quickly as they had come.

He raised his hands- he had _hands_ again- to his head, feeling his face. Somehow, he had dispelled whatever magic had been worked on him. Something told him it hadn't simply disappeared, however.

He decided to just take it in stride and press onward. There wasn't really much point in dwelling on things that weren't a problem anymore.

Walking back towards the entrance to the darker part of the forest, he noticed the beginning of a trail between the trees to his left. The trail appeared to have seen many travelers, flattened grass clearly defining the shape of the path.

He shrugged, walked off the road, and started down the trail.

The trail did not seem to be terribly long, and turned sharply a short ways down the path. Turning the corner, he found….

What.

What was that.

Around the the corner, at a dead end, was what appeared to be a _tentacle_ poking up from a manhole.

The tendril was bright red, and did not appear to belong to any animal- or monster- he knew of. It appeared to be completely smooth, lacking any sort of a sheen that might suggest a layer of mucus or slime. It protruded, completely rigid, from the depths of… whatever was down there.

Everything about this situation screamed _trap._ This was likely some bizarre beast's way of trapping its prey, and he had no intention of becoming some abomination's lunch. But some stupidly brave little thing, the same little part of him that had propelled him on his adventure through the Underground, told him to step closer.

This proved to be a bad idea.

The instant he stepped closer, the tentacle twitched. Before Frisk could react, it lunged, wrapping itself around his body. He barely had the chance to yelp before it lifted him up and pulled him into the depths.

Frisk had accepted his fate. The next thing he expected to see was the inside of a fetid maw, the next thing he expected to feel being the agony of his body being torn apart.

He had not expected being gently set down on the ground and let go.

He had been placed on a small, narrow plateau in the middle of a canyon. The landscape was formed of chalky white stone. Far above sat the ceiling of the massive cavern that he had apparently been dragged down into. Both of those were nothing, however, compared to what was in the cave with him.

Standing in front of the plateau, hunched over the rocky platform, was the largest and strangest creature Frisk had seen yet.

The thing's massive body was round and bulbous, the same bright red as the tentacles that had brought him here. A massive, frilled black mane, akin to the crest of a rooster, protruded from the top of its head. To top off the bizarre appearance of the gargantuan beast, five massive eyes stared down at Frisk from various points on the thing's body.

Frisk could only stare back in awe.

The two stared at each other for a moment longer, before the tentacle-thing suddenly moved, raising a tentacle into the air. Frisk threw up his hands, preparing for the inevitable…

...only for the beast to lower the appendage to the ground, the tendril poised just above the surface.

Obviously, this beast meant him no harm. But why had it pulled him down here? Frisk highly doubted it was just because the thing had wanted a friend. Was it even capable of thought? There was no way to know for sure. All he knew was, the thing wanted him to do… something with its tentacle. This just had "good idea" written all over it, now didn't it?

But what choice did he have?

He stepped closer to the limb.

Just as before, the arm lunged forward, wrapping around him. This time, however, Frisk remained quiet, waiting with half-morbid curiosity to see what would happen. Much to his relief, he was not immediately thrown into the waiting mouth of his colossal captor, but instead lifted up toward a hole in the ceiling that he hadn't noticed before.

* * *

The instant his head poked above ground, his eyes were assaulted by blinding sunlight.

As the tentacle gently set him down, he took his first look around.

Strangely (though he really shouldn't have been surprised, considering how the day had gone so far), he seemed to have emerged in a desert.

The first thing he noticed was that the world seemed to have had all the color sucked out of it. The sand was stark white, its hue almost oppressively bright, resembling newfallen snow. Unlike snow, however, it was entirely opaque, casting no glare- the only thing keeping it at all bearable to behold. The sky was a light shade of grey, but bright all the same, as opposed to the darkness that usually came with a grey sky. Not even the plants were exempt from the monotony, the verdant green of the cacti having been reduced to a shade of pale, lifeless white.

Not even when time itself had stopped had the world felt this… dead. It was rather haunting, actually.

One thing that turned his attention from the general lifelessness of the world, however, was the sandstorm that he appeared to be in the eye of, reducing what he guessed was a sprawling desert to a small clearing.

The wind swirled around the clearing at furious speeds, debris whipping across the ground with the force of a sandblaster, turning the gale-force winds into an impenetrable sandy wall that was impossible to even see through.

If he ventured into the sandstorm, the flesh would be stripped from his bones. So that wasn't an option.

He could, however, check out the dome-shaped building that appeared to be built in the shape of a human head.

The sculpted scalp was completely bald, two massive eyes staring blankly into space. A lumpy, cartoonish nose jutted into the ground, giving the appearance of, indeed, a head half-sunken into the ground. The door, however, had been fashioned from the right ear, making the head look incredibly deformed.

Frisk shrugged and stepped inside the small building, intending to simply look inside.

Space folded, twisted, expanded again, and he was back underground, standing on a bridge made of the same stone he had seen back in the cave.

Again, he really shouldn't have been surprised.

Ahead of him was another massive creature.

The thing's long, lumpy body reminded him of an organic geyser more than anything else. Its mouth spewed an endless stream of white sludge into the sky, the opaque liquid crashing against the rocks below. One of its eyes appeared to have popped out, a separate gout of sludge gushing from the empty socket. The remaining eye was milky and unfocused, sunken into the creature's head. Combined with the creature's ghostly white skin, it seemed that it was already dead- and had been here a while, judging by the layers upon layers of gunk caked at its base, which appeared to be the only thing holding it up.

Taking care not to touch the thing, he moved past it and proceeded to the other end of the bridge.

Reality did its impression of an origami project once more, and he found himself inside another dome-shaped head-house.

He was still underground- he could tell that much. Although the light outside the confines of the hovel was bright, it was relegated to a limited area, the walls of the cavern still cloaked in shadow.

What light there was, however, illuminated the quadrupedal _beast_ standing a short distance away from the house's entrance.

He stepped hesitantly into the light to get a better look.

Its bean-shaped body was corded with muscle. Four legs stuck out from the underside of the monstrosity, each foot ending in five toes like those of a human. A single twisted arm, the fingers ending in claws, jutted from the creature's back. Another leg, bent at an odd angle, took the place of a tail.

The thing resembled a clay sculpture, spawned from the mind of a deranged seven-year-old. But its appearance, although grotesque, wasn't his main concern.

A single gigantic, almond-shaped eye glared balefully down at him.

A tremendous, protruding lower jaw, lined with scythe-like teeth and dripping with saliva, jittered rapidly, producing a continuous, maraca-like rattle.

The beast was alive.

And it did _not_ look happy.

Frisk froze, stock-still, on the spot.

For a moment, the two simply stared.

In the end, though, it was the beast that broke the silence. The monster suddenly reared back, its hellish jaws unhinging with a sickening crack.

That snapped Frisk out of his stupor. He dove to the side, just in time for the gaping maw to come down on the place where he had been standing.

In a panicked frenzy, Frisk scrambled backwards, putting as much distance as he could between him and the angry creature. He didn't have much time to do so, however, as the beast quickly whipped around and lunged again.

Frisk simply dodged once more.

The cycle of charging and dodging continued, like the endless battle between a bull and a matador. As it did, though, Frisk soon found himself getting tired.

He couldn't keep doing this forever. Eventually, he was going to run out of energy, and the beast would devour him. Perhaps he could try calling upon the Stoplight? It wasn't entirely gone- he could still feel echoes of its power buried deep within his soul. But the problem still stood that he had no idea how to access it.

He thought the word _Stoplight._ No luck.

That one moment wasted, however, was all the beast needed. It lunged forward with terrifying speed, its cavernous mouth open wide.

Frisk just barely evaded the beast's attack, frantically grabbing its leg and climbing aboard.

The creature, as one would, shook its leg, attempting to shake off its prey.

Frisk simply held on more tightly, his fingers locking in a death grip.

The leg fruitlessly shook harder…

...before abruptly stopping and returning to the floor.

It took Frisk a moment to realize what had happened.

It appeared the beast had given up.

For a moment, it seemed, he was safe.

...the operative word being _seemed._

No sooner had Frisk relaxed than the leg he had been hanging onto began to lift upwards. To his horror, as it reached what should have been the limit of the limb's rotation range, it kept going, twisting upwards unnaturally.

What was it doing?

His question was promptly answered when the arm sprouting from its back suddenly darted out and grabbed him, tearing him from his perch the way one might remove a tick.

Its gnarled fingers constricted his body, nearly crushing him in its grip.

Before he could attempt to escape, the deformed arm wound up and catapulted him upwards, sending him spiraling through the air.

Wind screamed in his ears, stealing the breath from his lungs as he rocketed skyward.

For an instant, he hovered in zero gravity, the forces of physics equalized. He caught a glimpse of the beast down below, its jaw unhinged once more beneath him. He saw what it meant to do- it planned to catch him in its mouth.

And he was utterly powerless to stop it.

Down, down he plummeted, into the beast's waiting jaws, gravity taking hold once more.

The gaping maw snapped shut around him, a slimy tongue breaking his fall.

Before he realized what was happening, he found himself caught between the beast's powerful jaws.

The creature began to chew, serrated teeth tearing his flesh and crushing his bones, searing pain ripping through his body like fire.

He felt his soul shudder, crack, and finally _shatter_ in his chest, a final wave of agony penetrating him.

All at once, though, the pain left him, replaced by a frigid, hollow emptiness that was somehow even worse than being eaten.

The last thing he saw was the back of a fetid throat before his vision finally left him.


	6. 404

_He floated in a dark void, barely aware of his own existence._

 _Gale-force winds howled, but the chill did not touch him._

 _He had seen this before. Many times._

 _Every time he died back in the Underground, a warm voice always came to him, comforting and revitalizing him, reigniting his determination to succeed._

 _But this time, the voice did not come._

 _Instead, a different voice echoed across the void._

" _ **IT APPEARS YOU HAVE REACHED... AN END."**_

 _The voice was deep, booming, the kind that seemed to resonate with power, shaking Frisk to the depths of his shattered soul._

" _ **...WILL YOU TRY AGAIN?"**_

 _The answer, of course, was yes. He wanted to live. And he wanted to go home._

 _Almost instinctively, he called upon the light within, the power born of will that gave him control of time itself. He concentrated on it, pouring all the effort he could muster into stoking the guttering spark._

 _The light immediately reacted, growing brighter within his mind. A flood of energy suddenly surged through him, as if he had strengthened his wavering connection to the world._

 _He stoked the light, clinging to life, dedicating every last ounce of his determination to the shining lifeline. The light answered in kind, becoming brighter, warmer, filling him with new strength, which he in turn offered back to it._

 _At last, after what seemed like an eternity, it seemed that he had been fully rejuvenated. The light blazed like a miniature sun, warming him to the very core of his being. His soul was whole again, the essence of life pulsing within him. A force pushed at him, urging him to return to the world of the living._

 _He gratefully accepted._

 _The voice imparted one last message to him before he departed._

" _ **THEN, THE FUTURE IS IN YOUR HANDS."**_

 _The void brightened, filling his vision, until the blackness was replaced by blinding white._


End file.
